I first heard about NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) about 10 years ago, and thought, “I should do that.”
“That” being write a 50,000-word novel in 30 days. At the time, I had a full-fledged job–a staff writer job, no less–where I generally had to be certain places at certain times and, more notably, I had to go to the many life-sucking meetings that all jobs require.With all that going on–being certain places at certain times and meetings–the idea of going home and writing more just didn’t seem feasible. By the time I got home, I was officially drained by the extroverted succubi that in cubicles do roam.
One of the perks of self employment? Limited meetings. And when there are meetings to attend, the $$ generally overrides any potential eye-glazing, so it all works out. Plus, I’m 30-something and at a much different place in life than I was in my early 20s–stable, calm, happy, all the good stuff you hope to one day have. And always on the lookout for a new challenging project. Yes, I think it might be time to write a novel.
November starts at midnight, so I have until then to decide. If I do it, from what I’ve been reading, the goal is to just write, write, write. Vomit it all out on the page and don’t bother rearranging or editing or changing–that can come later, if I decide to revisit it once the project has ended. The main focus, for the month of November, should be 2,000 words a day for 30 days. At the end, badda-bing, there’s a novel. Shriveled, warty and misshapen by the birthing process, perhaps. But if you look at it more as a beginning than an ending, there’s something quite alluring to it.
I’ve got a few ideas knocking around, but I’m open to suggestions. Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
Also, if anyone else is up for the challenge, drop me a line and we can do-si-do this hoedown together. Separately.
(P.S. you’ll know I’m actually doing it if my entries on here drop drastically. Until then, XOXOXO.)